


Christmas Checklist

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: A collection of request drabbles in the spirit of the holiday season!





	1. “If you turn down the Christmas music, I’ll murder you.”

**Author's Note:**

> These are just some short drabbles I did as requests. Enjoy! :)

The car was nice and warm.

Jack had the heat on full blast, and the cup of hot chocolate in Rhys’ hands helped him feel nice and toasty as they drove around the quaint little neighborhood, taking in the creative and wonderfully vibrant Christmas decorations draping each home.

Oddly enough, the drive had been Jack’s idea. Rhys didn’t even know something like this existed not too far from their own home, but he was enjoying himself. They’d both been working so hard lately, sometimes even missing each other with their schedules, so it’d been hard to get into a properly festive mood together.

But now—with the heat cranked up, warm drinks in their hands, watching Christmas lights outside while listening to the proper kind of seasonal music.

“ _Rockin’ around the Christmas tree_ —“ Rhys hummed under his breath, wiggling his booted toe in time with the music as they passed a particularly wondrous display. A mansion of a house, decorated in lighted wreaths of warm white and gold and silver, a welcome and elegant relief from the flashy red and green and giant inflatable Santas. 

“ _You will get a sentimental feeling, when you—“_ Rhys’ singing stuttered as the music suddenly quieted, replaced by the hum of the heater.

“Hey!” Rhys turned away from the window, glancing to the dashboard before shooting Jack a pout. The man held up one hand in his defense, the other still planted on the steering wheel.

“Sugar, we’ve heard that song at least three times already.”

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” Rhys hissed, taking an annoyed sip from his hot chocolate, “if you don’t hear each song at least a hundred times this month, it’s not the same.”

“Rhys—“

“Don’t you dare!” Rhys grabbed the volume knob, cranking it even louder than before. “If you turn down the Christmas music again, I’ll murder you.”

Jack chuckled in defeat, turning his attention back to the road as Rhys looked back towards the houses.

“Whatever you say, pumpkin.”


	2. “How can you possibly look good with snow in your hair?”

Jack had gotten the drop on him with the first snowball, but Rhys wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

He’ been enjoying the cold, refreshing air of the morning, taking in the glistening hills of freshly fallen snow, when something icy and soft had exploded against the back of his head, sending powder cascading down into the collar of his jacket. Rhys remembered squealing and hopping around like an idiot as the snow trickled down against his warm skin, before whirling on Jack’s cackling laughter and launching return fire right into his smug face.

The impromptu snowball fight didn’t last long, both men soon panting and covered in powder as they sat on the wooden steps of the front porch. Rhys’ pale cheeks flushed with the cold and exertion, a pout on his pink lips as he dusted off his coat before pawing at Jack’s face.

“How can you possibly still look good with snow in your hair?” Rhys tutted, brushing a bit of the powder away even as he admired the way the small icy particles clung to each strand, making Jack look more dashing in the morning sun than a dirty backstabber like him deserved. _Ugh_. Now Rhys needed a shower and a mug of coffee to warm him up. Or maybe—

Jack, as if reading his mind, leaned in with a smirk and planted a deep kiss on Rhys’ lips, his heat more than enough to get him to forget the snow stuck to his clothes.


	3. “You really want a pair of fuzzy socks?”

“You know, when a said I needed your Christmas list, I didn’t mean it _literally_ , pumpkin.”

“But this is _easier_ , isn’t it?” Rhys chirped as he nudged the file into Jack’s hands. “They’re arranged by cost and how badly I want them and everything. Though I still expect you to buy me everything.”

Jack raised an eyebrow as he opened the file, scanning over the _lengthy_ list, annotated with little dots of festive clip art.

“You know, I was expecting some more… _inspired_ choices.” Jack tapped the paper and shot Rhys a critical look. “You really want a pair of fuzzy socks?"

“Fuzzy _and_ blue,” Rhys added as he beamed, “my feet get cold super easy in the winter. My favorite boots are fashionable but not great for heat retention.”

“Of course.” Jack flipped the file shut, shaking his head with amusement up at his boyfriend. “Come Christmas morning, you’ll find nothing but a dozen pairs of fuzzy blue socks underneath the tree.”

Rhys laughed, shooting him a look crossed between warning and legitimate interest.

“Careful Jack, or else you might risk not getting the thing _you_ want most off your list.”


	4. “How much for the ugly Christmas sweater?”

They had been cutting through the department store to get to the rest of the mall—and their dinner reservation—when something bright and sparkly and colorful caught Timothy’s eye.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he cried as he stopped short, tugging on Rhys’ wrist, “guys, _look_.”

Jack kept walking a couple more paces before realizing both of his boyfriends had stopped to coo and fawn over something hanging on one of the many shopping racks. Grumbling something about their reservation and his growling stomach, Jack strode over to them, peering over Rhys’ shoulder as Tim pawed at the garment in particular.

It was—a _terrible_ sweater. Jack couldn’t lie. It was brilliant red and green like the world’s gaudiest Christmas ornaments, decorated with little bells and flickering strand lights woven around a pair of fluffy, wall-eyed kittens embroidered into the fabric.

“It’s so _tacky_ , I love it,” Tim chuckled, running his fingers over it and jingling one of the little bells. Jack snorted, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen, Timmy…I’m not sure I could ever put my dick in you again if I ever saw you wear— _ow_!” Jack hissed, rubbing his ribs where Rhys elbowed him before shooting him a warning look.

“I mean—how much for the ugly Christmas sweater?” Jack asked in the direction of a passing salesperson, hooking the garment off the rack and flashing his steel credit card. Behind him, Rhys snickered and squeezed Timothy’s hand until a pleased blush colored his boyfriend’s face.


	5. “I’m watching Barbie Nutcracker.”

“I’m home!” Rhys called, pulling his wet boots off his feet and draping his coat on the little peg by the door. He sniffed the air, the wonderful smell of spices and sugar filling the apartment with warmth and comfort that immediately relaxed him after the rush-hour commute from work. Now stripped down into his slacks and sweater, Rhys slipped into the kitchen, chasing the smell no doubt drifting from the oven.

And he found that, sure, but he also found a sight just as sweet—his boyfriend Timothy, cleaning up the remains of what looked to be a productive baking session.

“Hey,” Rhys whispered as he sidled up to the other man, slipping an arm around his waist. Tim chuckled, turning to meet Rhys’ lips in a kiss as he finished balling up some scrap dough with saran wrap.

“Hey…we weren’t sure what time you’d be home, so the cookies are still baking,” Tim apologizes softly, as if the smell of baking and his presence wasn’t enough to brighten Rhys’ mood, “but they’ll be ready soon. We bought milk too.”

“Mmm. Sounds like a perfect evening. Cookies, milk, two boyfriends…where’s Jack?” Rhys asked, assuming his other lover had helped bake—Jack would never give up a chance to show off his culinary skills.

Right on cue—as if summoned by his name—Jack trudged into the kitchen, fluffy white robe only half concealing his tan chest and festive, peppermint-striped boxers.

“I’m watching Barbie Nutcracker,” he grunted, taking a sip of his coffee before gathering Rhys up in a one-armed hug. “It’s the only thing on TV that’s not twenty-four hours of A Fuckin’ Christmas Story.”

“The _only_ thing, huh?” Rhys teased, snatching a kiss from Jack’s lips, tasting coffee and cinnamon. The scruff of his boyfriend’s chin brushed affectionately against his chin.

“Better than that dumb Santa Claws movie Tim had us watch…who wants to see a bunch of cats save Christmas?” Jack snorted, earning a dot of flour on the nose from Tim’s finger.

“We all have our seasonal vices.”

“Mine is definitely a couple dozen of your gingerbread cookies…” Rhys sighed happily, his mouth already watering at the thought. Jack’s recipe was amazing, good enough that you didn’t even need to frost the cookies to enjoy them. Of course they decorated a few for fun, but most were eaten bare and piping hot.

“Ten more minutes, kitten.” Jack clapped them both on the shoulder with his usual heavy-handed affection. “How’s about you two join daddy in the mean time, and watch this pink floozy stumble her way through a Christmas classic.”

Rhys smiled, letting Jack lead him and Tim to the couch, where they snuggled up to nitpick the brightly colored action on the television as they pressed closed to each other. And though he couldn’t wait to get his lips wrapped around some fresh baked cookies, idle kisses from his lovers would more than tide him over until then.


	6. “I’m cold, can you cuddle with me?” “No.”

Jack originally bought Rhys the skag pup as a joke.

He thought the slobbery, scaly little bastard might terrorize the penthouse for a few days at most, maybe rip up a couple of Rhys’ crappy ties or socks, before his boyfriend _begged_ him to return it to Pandora.

He didn’t expect Rhys to get _attached_ to the damn thing.

“Aw, you’re such a little cutie, aren’t you Marshmallow? Aren’t you?” Rhys cooed from where he sat on the end of the couch, cuddled up in a fuzzy blanket as he doted on the pup in his lap. The little thing wiggled, panting and squeaking as Rhys adjusted the festive collar around its neck. It was bright red and green and dotted with jingle bells that tinkled whenever the pup moved.

Jack watched from his armchair, arms crossed over his chest. A light shiver ran up his spine, thin blanket pooled in his lap. Rhys didn’t notice, too busy lifting his pup to cuddle it affectionately to his chest as it licked his chin.

“You look so cute in your little collar! Yes, you’re ready for Mercenary Day, aren’t you?” Jack rolled his eyes inwardly. There were already more than a few presents under the tree wrapped specifically for Marshmallow. Maybe even more than there were for Jack, which was _not okay_.

Rhys needed to snap out of this.

“Hey,” Jack interrupted, only for Rhys to continue to ignore him. He frowned, leaning against the arm of his chair and raising his voice. “ _Hey_.”

“Hm?” Rhys looked up briefly, fingers still scratching the top of Marshmallow’s head. The distracted look in his eyes annoyed Jack further, but he tried not to let it show.

“I’m getting a little cold over here. You wanna come cuddle me?” He leaned back and spread his legs, trying to look as inviting as possible. He waved his pathetically thin blanket for emphasis.

Much to his dismay, Rhys merely frowned like Jack had asked him to take a spacewalk outside Helios.

“What? No…” Rhys mumbled, before snuggling back into his blanket and continuing to dote on Marshmallow. Jack’s shoulders deflated, lips parting in upset.

“Rhys!”

“What?” He replied, like he’d done nothing wrong. Jack huffed, tossing aside the blanket in his lap and thumping on over to the couch. He sunk into the cushion besides Rhys, set on his anger and jealousy when a little paw rested onto his thigh.

Jack looked down to see Marshmallow worm its way into his lap, wiggling softly. He frowned, as if he could transfer his sour mood into the pup, but it only chuffed and butted its head playfully against Jack’s side.

“Aw, look! He likes you!” Rhys clapped his hand happily, scooting in close. Jack wanted to shove the dumb puppy off, but at least it was getting his boyfriend to properly pay attention to him.

And, well…

Jack raised his hand to scratch Marshmallow’s head, earning a low, pleased purr from the pup’s drooly mouth.

…Maybe he didn’t hate Rhys’ new pet as much as he’d thought.


	7. “Great, now I have to re-hide your Christmas gift.”

“Rhys, what the heck is this? There’s a weird package in your sock drawer,” Jack turned away from the open cabinet just as Rhys entered the room, an oblong present wrapped in shiny paper and bound with red ribbon clutched in hand.

Rhys stopped in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise before his brows furrowed, slack lips falling into a frown.

“ _Great_ , now I’m gonna have to re-hide your Christmas gift—wait, what were you doing in my sock drawer?” He stalked forward, pulling the gift from Jack’s hand as he bumped the drawer closed with his hip.

“I was looking for something—you say that’s for me? Lemme get a closer look—“ Jack tried to grab the present back from Rhys’ hand, but he quickly hid it behind his back.

“No! You already almost ruined the surprise! Now I’ve gotta put it someplace you’ll _never_ think to look.” Rhys scooted away from his nosy boyfriend, even as Jack chased after him, trying to get the present back.

“Aw, c’mon sugar, just a peek! I think I can guess what it is already…really more of a gift for _you_ than me, right?” He grinned lustily, only for Rhys to slam the bedroom door in his face. Jack jiggled the knob but only managed to open it a fraction before Rhys pushed a heavy chair right in front of it.

“Hey! No fair,” Jack whined, trying to push against the door to no avail. Rhys’ smug face appeared in the sliver of space between the door and jamb, sticking out his tongue before racing off.

“I’ll let you out as soon as I find a proper place to hide it!” He called, leaving Jack chuckling behind the blocked door at his boyfriend’s dedication to the “surprise.”


	8. “My reindeer slipper broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two fics have omegaverse/mpreg featured in them.

Jack’s alpha instincts kicked into overdrive when he rounded the corner and saw Rhys sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway.

Immediately, he worried his omega had slipped and fallen—his center of gravity was skewed due to the pregnancy, after and—and just as Jack crouched by his side and grabbed his hand, ready to hoist him up and take him to the doctor, Rhys spoke.

“I’m fine…” He croaked, rubbing athis red eyes. “I’m not hurt…it’s just…”

“Yeah? What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Jack’s other hand petted Rhys’ hair, trying to calm both his omega and himself down. Rhys sniffled, one hand propping up his belly as he managed to stick out his foot.

“My reindeer slipper broke.”

Jack looked down at one of the fluffy abominations Rhys had bought the previous week. The omega always had a thing for ridiculous footwear but this one took the cake—huge slippers with goofy reindeer faces slapped on near the toe, complete with little felt antlers and jingle bells. Jack hated them but Rhys loved how they looked and the way they felt on his swollen feet, so he kept his mouth shut to spare his pregnant mate’s feelings.

“Broken? Where, sugar?” Jack soothed, stroking softly down Rhys’ ankle. He found where the top part of the shoe attached to the sole, wiggling his finger into a space that shouldn’t be there.

“There…” Rhys said miserably, his shoulders slumped. Jack patted his foot, looking back to his omega.

“Rhysie, it’s okay…it’s not that bad, promise!” Rhys’ sad, tired eyes met his, lower lip wobbling. “Just a little rip…I can probably fix it.”

The omega’s expression flickered with a little bit of hope.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah! Sure.” Jack nodded, wiping Rhys’ tear tracks with his thumb. “You just let Ol’ Saint Jack have a look at them, and he’ll fix ‘em right up while you sit around drinking hot cocoa. That sound good?”

Rhys nodded, upset omega pheromones finally starting to dissipate from Jack’s nose, much to his relief. He carefully held Rhys under the arms and helped him up, letting the omega rest his considerably weight against him as they ambled back to the living room.

Jack didn’t know all that much about fixing shoes, but for his Rhysie’s sake, he’d have to try.


	9. “Bath and Body Works was having a sale on their holiday scents so I bought twenty bottles of lotion.”

Jack was expecting to find his pregnant mate lying in his favorite position on the couch, clad in his favorite blue chiffon robe with his feet propped up on the ottoman. Though Rhys still had a few months left, more often than not he spent his time resting, playing games on his phone or watching television.

But, usually, not surrounded by way too many decorated paper bags bulging with who-knows-what. Jack raised his eyebrow as he walked around the couch, eyeing the bags and his mate who just smiled all innocent.

“So…” Jack started, gesturing to where the bags sat on the coffee table and floor, “what’s this all about? You went out?”

“A little…I wanted to poke around the mall, see if there was anything I missed that I wanted to get for gifts, and well…” Rhys sat himself up, hand resting on his belly as he grabbed one of the bags, pulling out a shimmery red and silver bottle.

“Bath and Body Works was having a sale on their holiday scents, so I bought twenty bottles of lotion.”

“Twenty? Rhys—“ Jack balked, “—don’t you have enough lotion already?” Their medicine cabinet had been overrun by by the omega’s skin care products.

“I—okay, _maybe_ , but Jack this one smells like peppermint!” Rhys whined, putting on a pretty pout as he held the bottle out to Jack. The alpha squinted at the label before sighing and sitting down besides his mate.

“You’re lucky I got more money than I know what to do with, pumpkin.” He took the bottle from Rhys’ hand and flipped open the cap, taking a sniff. Not too bad. A hint of vanilla buttered the sharper edge of the peppermint to make it a little less overpowering. He wouldn’t mind Rhys smelling like this.

The omega eagerly undid the belt of his robe, revealing the pale curve of his belly as Jack squirted some lotion on his hand and warmed it in his palm. Pink tinged Rhys’ cheeks as his mate’s broad hand started to rub his stomach, smoothing scented lotion over the dry or stretched patches.

“See? Totally a justified purchase,” Rhys mumbled, pleased purr fluttering on his lips as Jack’s other hand joined in the rubbing, “and we have plenty of scents to try out.”

Jack smiled, leaning in to sneak a kiss from Rhys’ lips, the festive scent of the lotion mingled with his mate’s own natural odor enough to soothe him into a state of bliss.

“And plenty of chances to get my hands all over you, sugar.”


	10. "I'm not going to kiss you under the mistletoe."

“ _Jack_ , come on—“ Rhys whined, tugging on his boyfriend’s arm, but he seemed determine to stick close to the bar, already on his third eggnog.

“Babe, I love you, but I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe. That’s so… _corny_ …” Jack snorted, taking a big gulp of his drink. Rhys sighed heavily, crossing his arms and shooting Jack an annoyed glare.

“ _Fine_. If you don’t wanna kiss me there, then I’m gonna find somebody who will.”

“Knock yourself dead, pumpkin. No one’s gonna be lame enough to wanna plant one on a string bean like you,” Jack teased, not really thinking things through thanks to the alcohol. When Rhys turned in a huff he just went back to what he was doing, picking festively decorated little appetizers off the serving platters and popping them into his mouth amidst sips of eggnog. He wasn’t even sure how much time had past before he started ambling his way back through the party, eventually nearing the wall and a little entryway that opened out into one of the venue’s hallways.

He saw the little bundle of mistletoe, dotted with little white berries, before his eyes traveled downwards and fell upon Rhys—wrapped up in the arms of _Timothy_ of all frikkin’ people, their lips about to touch.

“ _Rhys_!” Jack shouted in surprise, causing both men to start away from one another. Rhys furrowed his brows in anger once he saw his boyfriend, while Timothy paled like he’d just seen a drunken, avenging ghost. Jack blew frustrated air through his nose and put his hands on his hips, trying to look intimidating even as he swayed on his feet.

“You…what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! You _told_ me to go find someone to kiss me under the mistletoe, so I did!” Rhys scowled, wrapping his arms around Timothy’s neck. “This is what you getting for being so… _mean_ to me…”

“Mean? Now trying to kiss Timmy, that’s mean…” Jack walked underneath the doorway, bracing his hand against it. “Look at the poor kid…like a deer ’n in the headlights…”

Rhys kept his arms around Timothy’s neck, but seemed a little less annoyed now that Jack was standing right where he wanted him.

“Well…if you’re not gonna let me kiss him…then you gotta….it’s the rules…” Rhys glanced upwards pointedly as Jack stuttered, realizing where he was. But with even more alcohol running through his body, he couldn’t remember why he’d resisted this in the first place

“Oh no…I won’t just kiss you, babe…I’ll do ya one better…” Jack leaned in, grabbing both Tim and Rhys and pulling their lips together, one after another, until all three men started to drunkenly make out beneath the coy sway of the mistletoe.


End file.
